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Summary: My version of what happens after Dean and Sam split up. Will undoubtedly be Kripke'd in, oh, 5 days.


_Home_

_Post-Good God, Y'all_

_My own version of where Sam goes after he separates from Dean. Sure to Kripke'd in just a few days. :)_

_xxxx_

"Hey, Bobby."

Bobby turned in his chair at the sound of the familiar voice behind him. He frowned. "What are you doing here, boy?" He cocked his head to see past the tall figure in his doorway. "Where's your brother? Rufus alright?"

Sam took a step into the room, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded forward slightly. His eyes met Bobby's. He looked… well, Bobby wasn't sure he had a word to describe the look of the boy shuffling uncertainly toward him.

"Rufus is fine. We, uh, got it all straightened out."

"And your brother?"

Sam's eyes slid away. "We decided maybe we should split up for awhile." He was trying to sound nonchalant about it and failing. Miserably.

"He cutcha loose?" Bobby was shocked. He knew Dean had been devastated by what had happened. Understood it. But Bobby thought he'd convinced Dean not to make the same mistake John had.

Sam was shaking his head, though. "Nah. I… I suggested it." He sat down heavily on the edge Bobby's bed, hooking the heels of his boots on the rails underneath. He rested his elbows on his knees, head canted toward the floor. The smile Sam finally gave him when the kid looked up through his bangs was painful to behold. "He just agreed."

Sam glanced out the window, then back at Bobby. "I thought I'd see if I could make myself useful around your place."

Bobby didn't trust himself to speak for a second. Tried to convince himself that the tightness in his chest wasn't gratitude that he would not be alone in this. That the ache in his throat wasn't grief for the young man across from him.

"Any reason you think I need anyone being 'useful,' hangin' around and gettin' in my way?" Bobby rasped.

Sam's smile, deepening slightly, only highlighted the misery in his eyes before his gaze went back out the window. He shrugged. "No reason," he said.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. I guess I could probably find something for you to do."

xxxx

Sam was out seeing about renting a car to get them back to South Dakota when Dean called.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Boy," Bobby growled.

There was a beat of surprised silence on the other end of the phone. "You mad at me?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"A big, ol' pup of a kid showed up in my hospital room a little while ago thinkin' he's gonna make himself useful to me. You got anything to do with that?"

There was quiet again. "He went to you?" Soft.

"Yeah, he did. Said he didn't trust himself to hunt right now. Said you didn't either." Bobby wasn't blaming either of them for that. But he didn't like Dean out on his own, without backup. And, frankly, he didn't like the implication that they'd separated without either of them knowing what the other was planning.

"I can't... I can't… do what I need to be doing if I'm worrying about him any time he's out of my sight. Worrying about what he might be doing. And I can't … _he _can't work with me second guessing him all the time, not trusting… _anything_ he's telling me. I can't… I _tried_, man, I've _tried_. But, I can't. He tells me he's OK, that's he's not being tempted and I don't _believe_ him. Bobby, I don't…" Dean stopped.

But Bobby had heard enough—heard the grief and the anger and the regret. "You don't have to explain it me, son," Bobby said heavily.

Neither said anything for awhile.

Finally, Dean said, "I wasn't sure…" He paused. "I'm glad he's with you."

Bobby could hear the relief in Dean's voice. And knew it wasn't just because Sam was "safe" with him. But for Bobby's own sake.

"How are you doing, man?" The question was hesitant.

Bobby swallowed down a choking mouthful of anger and resentment at being put in this position. At being helpless and dependent. Forced himself, this time at least, not to take out his frustration on the handiest person.

"They're springing me this afternoon. Sam's gone to get a car," he answered shortly.

"Good," Dean said. "You got everything you need? What about physical therapy? Are they going to…?"

Bobby was saved from an inappropriate—but totally justified—explosive outburst by Sam's return. He thrust the phone at the taller pain in his butt, while the older one continued to rattle off meddling questions. "It's your brother."

Sam took the phone reflexively, blinking in surprise. He put the phone to his ear. "Hey."

Bobby turned his chair sharply away, back toward the window.

Sam listened to his brother for awhile then answered with a soft, "Yeah."

The tone of the boy's voice turned Bobby's head toward him, just in time to see Sam's shoulders ease down, tension draining from his whole body. The kid rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. "Yeah," he said again. "It seemed like something I could do, you know?" Sam listened some more and then huffed out a laugh, eyes flicking to Bobby, who jerked his head back toward the window like he hadn't been eavesdropping. "I'm getting that," Sam said dryly.

Bobby scowled at his reflection in the glass. Then at Sam's reflection as the boy continued his more-hushed conversation with his brother for the next couple of minutes.

"'K," Sam agreed to whatever Dean had said. "You'll call when you know what you're doing, too, right?" He asked the question tentatively, like he was testing his right to make such a request. He let out an unsteady breath when Dean responded. Then laughed, glanced at Bobby. "You, too."

Sam handed the phone to Bobby after he'd hung up, and Bobby snatched it back with a growl.

"You two done planning out my life?" he snapped waspishly.

Sam smiled, and Bobby thought it might be worth the aggravation to see that the smile was a genuine one this time.

"For now," Sam said, moving behind Bobby to rest his palms on the handles of the wheelchair. He hesitated then huffed out a gusty sigh and wrapped his fingers around the grips. Carefully, Sam maneuvered Bobby away from the window, pointing them both toward the door. "Let's get you home."

_The End._


End file.
